


I Wanna Take Your Hand (and make it feel so right)

by tiptoe39



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fingerfucking, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, Sharing a Body, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-21
Updated: 2012-09-21
Packaged: 2017-11-14 18:23:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiptoe39/pseuds/tiptoe39
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://zatnikatel.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://zatnikatel.livejournal.com/"></a><b>zatnikatel</b> asked me to write "Cas and Dean sharing a body, shower handjob." So I did. Thank you so much with trusting me with the prompt, Zat-- you're really far too good to me! Love!</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wanna Take Your Hand (and make it feel so right)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zatnikatel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zatnikatel/gifts).



It’s not so bad, sharing a body. Just means the angel on Dean’s shoulder is a little closer than usual. He can feel Castiel’s curiosity sometimes, his surprise at the habits Dean has that Castiel never noticed when physical space surrounded them. The twinge in his shoulder from where he was shot four years ago surprises Castiel, and Dean finds himself reaching up and massaging it, something he himself has never done. Cas has taken covert control for a moment, overriden Dean’s impulses with Castiel’s own. It’s a skill that never fails to surprise Dean, and Cas is using it more and more in their moments of solitude, often making Dean have to mentally smack him down and take over the reins of his own body with an exertion of willpower that leaves him a little breathless.

Then there are the times when it isn’t so bad to give Cas a little room to stretch. Like now. He’s – _they’re_ – in the shower, and where Dean would usually be satisfied with just letting the water run over him for a while, Castiel is a frigging hygiene freak. So Dean sits back and mentally relaxes, allowing Cas to lather up the soap between Dean’s palms, then rub the suds over his chest, into his armpits, up and down his arms and along the ridge of his shoulders. Even though it’s his own muscles doing the work, it still feels like getting pampered, and Dean relaxes, letting out a soft groan (Cas is just in the arms and hands; the throat is still his.)

_’s nice, Cas,_ he murmurs internally, not realizing how intimate it sounds until it’s been ringing in his mind for a good minute. 

_You should take better care of yourself,_ comes the reply. Dean rolls his eyes. Leave it to Cas to mother him.

_Why should I,_ he thinks,  _when I’ve got you to take care of me?_

But he really should. At least, he should take care of Cas while he’s using Dean as a boarding house. Thing is, taking care of someone has a couple different meanings, and Dean grins wickedly as the idea comes to him. He wrests control of his right hand from Castiel and slides it down over his lather-coated stomach to wrap around his cock. A few soap-slick strokes and he’s hard, and Castiel is gasping in his mind.

_Ever tried this?_ he asks Cas.

The answer is a mental stammer.  _N-no. Oh._

Dean’s fingers slide over the head, and he relishes the lazy heat that creeps up his spine. Just to add to the fun, he grabs his left hand back and sends it in the opposite direction, sliding up to brush shower-wet fingertips over one nipple. The touch is barely there, and it adds a bolt of dry lightning to the burgeoning heat. Inside him, Castiel quakes. 

_Dean,_ he pushes.

“Just lie back and enjoy,” Dean urges aloud. His thumb lingers around the base of his cock, swipes over his balls, and he groans. Castiel echoes the groan in his mind.

_But Dean. Ohh. Oh, God._

Dean smirks. His thighs have started to tense, and he tilts his head up into the shower spray, breathing in steaming air and rolling his hips forward into the shuck-and-tease motion of his hand. It’s a good rhythm, and Dean picks up the pace, his tongue tightening against the roof of his mouth as the pleasure builds. He lets out an “Nngh” that echoes around him.

But Castiel’s will is strong. _Dean,_ he says. _Let me try._

Dean doesn’t have time to process the request before he’s lost control of his hands again, and now Castiel is the one running a closed hand up and down his cock, teasing the tip with thumb and forefinger, wrist twisting as he slides down to the base again. And all the practiced, patient buildup is gone: Dean’s hips snap forward and he pants, the steam of the shower suddenly choking him, desire flowing through every limb in an uncontrollable wash.

“Cas,” he gasps aloud, loud enough to be heard. “Jesus. Oh, God.”

Castiel is silent inside him, all his concentration on interpreting the moves of fingers and palm, timing each brush and tweak of Dean’s nipple. When he pauses to lather up his hands again, Dean thinks he’ll die of withdrawal. On his own, he wouldn’t mind the break, but with Cas in the driver’s seat, it’s unbearable.

He purses his lips against he shower spray, mouth parting to feel warm drops on his tongue. He wishes to God there were a pair of lips there, Castiel’s lips, with Castiel’s tongue sliding against his instead of simple water. With Castiel inside him, he’s got no way to push back, to externalize the crazy heat riding through him. He’s helpless, just riding the lightning storm, gritting his teeth to keep from crying out.

Castiel’s voice is lazy in his mind. _This_ is _nice, Dean. Very nice._

How the hell can he be so calm? But so was Dean, before Castiel took control. Same body, but the difference is plain. Dean doesn’t know where his hands will go next, which direction his fingers will slide. But Cas is listening to the impulses and desires of the body he’s inhabiting, following the whims of each nerve ending, and Dean’s reaping the benefits. It’s pretty much the ultimate handjob.

Castiel’s left hand is moving, sliding away from his nipples and down his stomach, and Dean braces for the feel of two wet hands on his cock. “Yeah,” he murmurs, still rolling his hips in the same quick rhythm, “that’s fucking good, Cas, do that—” but Castiel doesn’t do that; at Dean’s hips his hand slides around in a quick slip, and all at once he’s got a hand on his ass, fingers peeking into the cleft of it, lifting his cheek and then darting in.

Dean lets loose with an explosion of sound. “Holy— crap—- Cas— what are you— _oh God_ ,” as fingers pat at his hole and start to worm their way in. Dean _never_ thought of doing this, but Cas must be sneaking into his subconscious or something, messing with all the latent desires Dean’s pushed away for years. And now he’s on fire, bright hot earthquakes with each stab, and he’s making obscene noises, eyes closed to feel it more intensely. It’s fucking _phenomenal_. He can’t believe he’s never tried this. “God, Cas,” he whispers into the spray that still breaks around his face like a million watery kisses a second. “Good. Oh, my God, so good. Go deeper.”

Castiel does, the two fingers he’s worked into Dean sliding further in, and Dean cant stand it. Strangle shouts break from his lips as he rides the curving path between his hands – hot palm and teasing fingertips around his cock at one end, stabbing penetration he can feel down to his toes on the other. His hips piston between the two poles, and he no longer has control of what sounds might be flying from between his lips. Not because Castiel has taken over, but just because he can’t help himself.

_Should we come?_ Castiel asks. Simple and smooth, like silk brushing over his ear. 

Dean shudders hard. The whisper of Castiel’s voice, like the first foam of a building wave, is the beginning of the end. He shouts, impaling himself hard on his fingers, then his hips snap up, cock sliding one more time into the strong sheath of his hand, and he spurts hard against the shower wall and floor and his own still-moving, still-pumping fingers. His breaths echo in hard, sharp rasps, and his body seems to fill up and empty again, wild pulses of feeling that last a full minute and leave him shaking hard.

Control flows back into his hands, and he takes in the sensation of having them inside his ass of his own volition. He stays there a minute, full and panting, then pulls them out, lets his cock go, and washes his hands under the shower spray. The water has turned lukewarm, and he only now notices.

“Cas,” he says with a thin chuckle, “dude, we’ve got to get you your own body back.”

_Really?_ Castiel teases him slyly.  _I was just starting to think sharing a body with you wasn’t so bad._

Dean shrugs. He turns off the water, leans against the shower wall, and tries to catch his breath. _It’s not,_ he says, _but think about what we could do with two of us._

Castiel spends the rest of the day pondering just that. And what he comes up with sure gives Dean something to grin about.

  
  



End file.
